Isn't Fiction Great?
by happycabbage
Summary: Imagine meeting your favorite fictional character. Now imagine you have to be that character. AU after Goblet of Fire, HPLotR crossover with a major twist! ADOPTION OPPORTUNITIES, SEE PROFILE FOR DETAILS
1. Oops

Author's Note: This will have violence and possible language, like all my stories. No slash in this one though. In fact, no romantic relationships for this story period.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is J.R.R.Tolkien's, and Harry Potter is J.K.Rowling's. THIS IS A CROSSOVER!

This is part one of the Fiction Trilogy: Isn't Fiction Great? Once I finish this part, there will be two more.

**Please read! **As usual, I am disregarding all the events of Half-Blood Prince, but unlike most of my others, this one is disregarding much of Order of the Pheonix as well. Sirius is still alive, and I changed a few other things. For more details, read the story. Anyhow, this starts the summer before sixth year for Harry Potter.

So now, without further ado, Happycabbage proudly presents:

Isn't Fiction Great?

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Ch 1) Oops…

"Hey Harry, the others and I are going to take some food into one of the sitting rooms for lunch. Do you wanna come?" Harry looked up from his summer homework at his best friend and nodded.

"Sure, Ron. I'll be with you in a second."

"Brilliant! I'll tell the others." Ron flashed a grin at him as he ducked back out into the hallway from his and Harry's room at Grimmauld Place. Harry glanced around for a bookmark and, not finding one, stuck a quill in his History textbook to mark his spot, and followed Ron downstairs to the kitchen. There he found his friends making some food to take into the next room. Well, all his friends but one. Ron, Hermione, and Neville bobbed around the kitchen fixing sandwiches. The fifth, most unexpected, member of the little group, was sitting at the table, sipping from a glass of lemonade.

"Honestly, I don't know why you don't just get the House Elf to make it. I never had to make my own meals until I fell in with you lot." Draco said, eying the others with amusement.

"Oh shut up, Ferret. I happen to like cooking and preparing food. Besides, knowing Kreacher, he'd probably poison us all," Harry said as he moved to help the other three.

"He's just jealous because anything he tries to cook he messes it up," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Draco looked offended. "I'm not that bad of a cook!" he said defensively.

"Draco, you burned _Kool-Aid_ once!" Harry said incredulously. The others snickered. "I still have no clue how you managed to do that. You're not even supposed to heat it up!"

"It was just the one time – "

"And then there were the lemon bars with half as much flour as you were supposed to put in," Ron added in.

"I didn't know – "

"And let's not forget," Hermione said, "About the Bullet-Proof Brownie Armor."

Draco said nothing, but his cheeks turned slightly pink as the others laughed uproarously.

"I swear, those brownies could block an Avada Kedavra if you needed it to. Maybe I should wear some under my clothes whenever I go out, Merlin knows I could use the protection," Harry mused.

"Hey," Draco protested weakly, "The brownies weren't that bad – "

"Draco, my friend, we almost needed a hammer and chisel just to break them into small enough portions to eat."

Draco pouted for a moment, then conceded defeat.

During Christmas break the year before, Draco (who had gone home for the holidays) had turned up at the doors of the castle. His father had informed him that he was to take the Dark Mark soon, and when Draco refused, Lucius had been shocked. However, to Lucius, family was what mattered. So he told Draco to leave. If Draco stayed, then Voldemort would've killed him, so to protect his only son, Lucius disowned Draco and kicked him out of his home.

When he was shunned by his old clique after winter break, Draco went to seek friends elsewhere. However, many other students supported Voldemort as well, and most others wanted nothing to do with the once-bully. So when Harry offered Draco his friendship, Draco leaped at the chance. It had taken a while for Ron and most of the other Gryffindors to trust him, but Harry's support slowly swayed much of the House in Draco's favor. After that he was regularly seen with his new circle of friends, including Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and the twins. He was definately closest with Harry though.

After his father had disowned him, he had had no where else to go for the summer while school was out. So Draco had come to Grimmauld Place with his new Gryffindor friends. The Headmaster felt he would be safest there, with half the Order to look after him. His new friends had been thrilled that he was to join them and he had been welcomed into their family with open arms.

Harry had overheard Dean and Seamus badmouthing Neville behind his back around the same time Draco and he first became friends. The incident had shaken Harry, and it gave him a bit of a wake up call. He realized that often enough, Neville was treated much the same as he himself had been before he came to Hogwarts. After telling them off, Harry made an effort to include Neville in activities, asking him to hang out with him and the others and willingly partnering up with him in class.

Gradually, the Golden Trio had grown to include Draco and Neville, and soon enough, it was common that you would never see one of them without one of the others close at hand. Unable to be called the Golden Trio anymore (due to the fact that they were now five and one was Slytherin rather than Gryffindor) Remus and Sirius had started calling them the Neo-Marauders, much to the chagrin of Draco's godfather and now legal guardian, Professor Snape.

"Hey 'Mione, pass me the mayonaisse?"

"Sure, Harry," Hermione said, tossing him the container. Harry caught it deftly, then stopped and tilted his head, listening for the sounds of other people in the house. Hearing nothing, he turned to the others and asked, "Where is everyone? Are we the only ones here?"

"No," Ron said around a mouthful of a cookie that he had nicked while piling some into their basket. Hermione looked disgustedly at him, and, conscious of her glare, he swallowed before continuing.

"Remus, Sirius, and Snape are here. Mum took Ginny and the twins out shopping; she said they probably won't be back until tonight."

The basket full of food, the Neo-Marauders headed down the hall towards one of the sitting rooms, were they could hear the voices of Snape and Sirius locked in a heated argument, with Remus' soft, exasperated-but-still-slightly-amused-parent voice coming in from time to time. The kids stopped in the doorway and watched the shouting match like a tennis game until Remus noticed them. He cleared his throat, to get the other two "adults" attention. They ignored him. He tried again, a little louder this time. The two continued to yell unintelligibly at one another. Remus sighed and drew in a large breath before bellowing "SHUT UP!!!"

The two still did not notice the kids, however they did both turn to Remus and yelled at him in unison to stay out of it, then went back to hurling insults at one another. Remus shook his head wearily and stepped over to where the kids stood in the doorway, muttering under his breath.

"I swear, those two are going to kill each other one of these days – hey kids. If you lot could just move over to the side there out of the way, that'd be great. You can stay in here while you eat, just be careful of all the stuff in here, okay?" He smiled at them.

They all nodded their consent and moved over to the couch and coffee table, where they watched Sirius and Snape scream at each other as they set up their lunch.

One who didn't know the two well would've said they were out for blood, but Harry knew his godfather and "favorite" professor well enough to catch a glimmer of enjoyment at the screaming match in both the wizard's eyes.

They were both loving every minute of this.

Harry turned his attention to Remus. The werewolf was arranging candles, magical crystals, and herbs around a pentagram drawn on the wooden floorboards with chalk.

"What are you doing, Moony?" he asked.

"I'm setting up for some ritual magic. We're going to try a locating spell to see where Voldemort is hiding. Severus said that meetings are usually at a Death Eater's house, and that Voldemort doesn't stay with any of them, so we want to see if we can find where he lives while he's plotting our ultimate demise."

"Wouldn't he just put a Fidelius Charm on the place, and make it Unplottable, and everything?"

"Yes, that's likely, but this isn't actually meant to pinpoint the location. What it will do, hopefully, is close in on Voldemort's magical aura and the places it has most recently been. This will give us basic idea of the area where he is the most, and hopefully, his general location."

"That makes sense," Harry said, watching him as he placed a candle on each point of the star in the pentagram. "Would you like some help?"

"No, thank you, Harry, I can manage."

Harry shrugged and glanced over at his friends. Ron, Draco, and Neville had engaged in a discussion about their classes and teachers at school while they ate their sandwiches. Hermione sat a little ways away, eating her own sandwich slowly as she read a book. Harry stood and moved to the couch she sat on, scooting over close to her.

"What are you reading? It looks like a Muggle book," he said.

"It is," she said, glancing up at him over the top of her book. "It's a rather excellent Muggle fantasy novel called The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R.Tolkien. I read the prequel, The Hobbit, when I was in primary school and I've kept meaning to read this, but I never had the time until now."

"It looks kind of long," he said, looking at the red leather cover. The spine of the book was about three inches wide.

"Yes, but it's well worth it so far. I can't wait to see how it ends," she smiled.

Remus carefully postioned a crystal bowl of light golden mist, much like the contents of a Pensieve, in the exact center of the circle and stepped back, smiling at his work. Harry and Hermione were drawn out of their conversation by Remus clapping his hands together loudly and saying "OKAY! Severus, Sirius, we're ready to start."

Immediately the two wizards stopped shouting and walked calmly over to the set-up on the floor as though nothing had happened. Remus shook his head one last time and positioned himself.

The three wizards seated themselves equidistantly from each other around the outer circle. Remus and Sirius began to chant in Latin as they magically lit the candles, and Severus turned to glare the kids and warn them to keep quiet and don't move before turning back to the circle and joining in the chant as well.

The teens watched in fascination as a pale green glow surround the three wizards. A small clear crystal rose up in the air between them and floated over the bowl before slowly moving in circles over the surface of the golden mists inside.

About five minutes into the ritual chanting, Neville rose quietly, whispering that he had to use the bathroom. As he moved across the floor to the door his foot got caught on the rug – and he fell face first into the ritual-circle.

The last thing anyone heard before the world exploded was Snape screaming out a single name in rage.

"LONGBOTTOM!"

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End Chapter 1.

That was fun! New story, new readers (hopefully) and much more time spent stalling while I get over more writer's block. yay.

The thing with Draco's cooking is actually exactly the way my best friend Randomblah cooks, and all of the examples I used for Draco are her actual experiences with cooking. And I am not exaggerating. Yes, she really did burn Kool-Aid, and yes, the Bullet-Proof Brownie Armor really did happen. I should know. I was the one who got to hack at them with a butcher knife in order to get them to break into smaller pieces. They were actually very tasty. But yeah, Randomblah's cooking could rival Hagrid's. No offense, hon, but it really could.

Please review!

The Group's To-Do List for Chapter 2:

-Find out what Neville's accident caused

-Meet some people from another world

-Make said people think they are all stark raving mad

-Get absolutely freaking lost in the middle of nowhere


	2. WTF?

Author's Note: Lord of the Rings/Harry Potter crossover with violence and bad language.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is J.R.R.Tolkien's, and Harry Potter is J.K.Rowling's. This follows the books for both worlds, NOT the movies.

'_writing like this is people thinking'_

So the first chapter seemed to get a pretty good response. I'm happy about that! Thanks everybody! And now, here's chapter two, where the real fun begins!

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Ch 2) WTF?

Harry felt as though he were being flushed down a toilet.

Not that he'd ever had that experience, but it was what he imagined it would feel like. Spinning, spinning, faster and faster, swirling down into oblivion. There was a flash of a blindingly brilliant white light, and the next thing he knew he was sitting on the back of a horse, surrounded by many other people on horseback that he didn't recognize, his head still spinning wildly. The horse under him tossed it's head nervously, whinneying. Harry swayed in the saddle and almost fell.

"Whoa, that hurt," he muttered bringing a hand to his forehead and shutting his eyes.

"My prince?" came a voice. Harry felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. He almost shut them again. On the horse before him was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Harry was straight, and proud of it, but even he had to admit the guy in front of him was gorgeous enough to make even prudish Hermione drool. He had dark brown hair, very long and braided back away from his face. His pale skin was absolutely flawless, seeming almost to glow. He was dressed oddly, a tunic and leggings in green and brown that were closefitting, leaving little to the imagination. Dark eyes that sparkled with life were watching Harry, concerned.

"Are you unwell?" the man asked in a wonderfully musical voice, "Shall I call for a halt?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. He had no idea how he had understood what the guy just said, as it had been said in a language he'd never heard before in his life.

Then he glanced around at his surroundings. He was in the middle of a forest, along with four more of the strange, freakishly beautiful men. All of which were looking – no, staring – straight at him. He hated being stared at.

"My Lord?"

Harry looked at the guy who had spoken to find him looking at him strangely. _'Is he talking to me?'_ Harry wondered.

"Do you want us to stop?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally managed to stammer, "No, I'm fine. Go on." He was a little shocked when he realized he had said it in the same strange language. _'Maybe it's like parseltoungue?'_ he thought to himself. Aside from the odd language that he somehow understood, his voice sounded altogether different. Almost musical…not unlike the voice of the weird pretty guy speaking to him.

The five pretty guys didn't look convinced, but they turned their horses and started back down the path.

Harry was just noticing with some amount of shock how he could suddenly see perfectly, and without his glasses to boot, when the pretty boy at the back turned around on his horse.

"My Prince!" he called back, "Are you not coming?"

"Oh, er," _'He did. He called me prince.' _Flustered, Harry tried to get his horse to move forward. "Please just go, horsie!" he whispered. Much to his shock, the horse snorted as if amused and then moved to follow the others.

The man, satisfied, turned around and chirped to his horse.

'_What the bloody hell is going on?'_ Harry thought.

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"Someone stop the world, I wanna get off," Sirius muttered, clutching his head and groaning.

Finally, he blinked his eyes blearily, "Moony? Where are you? What happened?…Where the fuck am I?"

Apparently, he was in the middle of nowhere.

"Moony? Harry?" He sat up from where he lay on the hard ground and looked around, but saw no one. "Fuck. I guess the spell really messed up."

Seeing a strange looking pack (with a _shield_ strapped to the back of it…A _sheild_!), Sirius looked around for the owner. Seeing no one around, and no other sign of people at all, he shrugged and walked over to it. He crouched down and opened it, pulling out the contents so they were spread out on the grass around him.

There was a tunic (neatly folded until Sirius held it up to figure out what it was, tossing it carelessly to the side when he was done), a map, a mess kit and some food (dried meat and crusty, almost stale bread, as well as a waterskin), a rag and some kind of metal polish, a spyglass, an old-fashioned compass, a strange map of nowhere that Sirius recognized, some flint and tinder for starting fires, a blanket, and a bag with a few strange gold coins in it. There was also a scroll of parchment.

When Sirius opened it up, he was surprised to realize he could read the strange letters on the scroll, despite the fact that he'd never seen writing like this before in his life. It was a message to someone named Elrond, who apparently lived in Rivendell, from some guy named Denethor. This Denethor guy was the Steward of Gondor – _'Wherever that is'_ – and had sent the message with his son Boromir. The letter was some real doomsday material, too.

After another look at the weird map, Sirius had located both Gondor and Rivendell. He took another look around at his surroundings. He was in the middle of some rocky, hilly plains, with a mountain range to the East of him that stretched beyond both the northern and southern horizons. He couldn't see any other landmarks anywhere around, so he figured he must be somewhere along the "Misty Mountains" labeled on the map. They certainly looked misty enough.

Sirius looked around for his wand and frowned. It wasn't in the wrist holster he normally kept it in. In fact, the wrist holster itself was missing as well.

Frantically, Sirius looked around on the ground, in the pack, and on his person for his missing wand – but he didn't find it. His wand had disappeared.

He groaned. "Oh, that's it, I'm doomed."

He tried to lie down on the grass, but was caught on something long and hard tied to his waist. Looking down, he saw it was a sword in a scabbard. Drawing it, he could see the shining steel blade; it was well-cared for and very sharp. At least he had something to protect himself now.

From the sword he moved on to examining the strange clothes he was now wearing. He had on a tunic and trousers, as well as a fur-lined cloak. Under the tunic was a long sleeved shirt made of wool. On his feet were a pair of heavy leather boots. The clothes were old-fashioned, but undeniably expensive and well-made.

Sirius removed the sword from his belt and laid back on the grass, staring up at the sky. It was clear and blue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of air into his lungs. It was clean and sweet and pure, very different from the smog-polluted crap people claimed was air back in London. He opened his eyes and resumed staring at the sky.

Just where the hell was he?

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Draco groaned with pain as he opened his watering eyes. The world was spinning, spinning and it refused to stop.

He heard some voices, gruff and garbled, as though he was hearing them through a blender, then suddenly what felt like the mouth of a water bottle was thrust between his lips, pouring a harsh liquid down his throat. Draco choked on the liquor, but whoever it was feeding it to him held his mouth closed until he swallowed some of it down. The world continued to swirl once more before steadying.

"Alright now, lad?" came a rough, deep voice, and Draco opened his eyes to see a wrinkled, white-bearded face close to his. He jumped and would've scooted back, except that he found himself sitting up with his back to some sort of rock wall.

"Gimli?" the old guy said questioningly, frowning at Draco. _'Whatever that means…'_ he thought to himself.

The Slytherin glanced past the other to see several more bearded figures standing behind him, all of them short and muscled, heavily armoured and bearing medieval weaponry. Draco blinked.

"What in hell?"

"Oh, son, thank Mahal you're alright! You took a bit of a nasty fall there! How does your head feel? You struck it on a rock, we think, you seemed pretty out of it when we got to you."

"Who the hell are you?" Draco asked rudely. He frowned. Why did his voice sound so weird? Like he'd swallowed a rock…

The old man looked shocked and hurt, but also greatly concerned. "Oh no, you must have hit your head harder than we thought! I'm your father, lad!"

Draco froze. "Right." He said disbelievingly. He sneered and said sarcastically, "Any proof of that?"

The old guy looked around at his companions a little helplessly. "What do we do now, Glòin?" one of them said.

"Glòin" shrugged, then sat silently for a moment in thought. "Well, we're on our way to see Elrond. If the best Healer in Middle-earth can't help my son, no one can. Maybe he'll recover his memories on the way. Gimli –" he turned back to Draco, "We're headed to Rivendell right now – do you remember where that is?"

Draco shook his head in disdain. "Never heard of it before in my life."

Glòin gave him a strange look at that, but let it go. "Well, anyways, Lord Elrond may be able to help you, so we're going to get there as quickly as possible, alright?"

Draco thought carefully about his situation. As little he wanted to tramp around through these rocky mountains with a bunch of short, bearded barbarians, he'd rather not end up stranded alone in the middle of nowhere. He supposed this was the result of Neville messing up yet another spell, and this one he hadn't even been casting himself! _"Talk about pathetic…" _Despite the fact they were sort of friends now, Draco's opinion of Neville's admittedly shoddy spellwork had changed little.

Draco could see none of his friends anywhere nearby, and, worst of all, his wand had disappeared from it's secret hiding place. These strange people didn't seem like they wished him any harm, but he would remain watchful, as every good Slytherin knows to be.

Draco shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"There's a spring nearby, lets take a break there and get you cleaned up, lad."

Draco nodded, deciding to just hang back and observe the situation in true Slytherin fashion until he could figure things out.

Draco followed the strangely dressed men as they trudged down the stone path a little ways further before coming upon the aforementioned spring. The others all dropped their packs and stooped over the pool, cupping their hands to bring the water to their lips. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. Hadn't these people ever heard of cups?

"Come on, lad," Glòin said, taking Draco by the elbow and leading him over to the pool. Draco sneered and wrenched his arm from the old guy's grasp, but Glòin just looked at him sadly.

Draco looked at the water and sighed. Ah, well. He felt disgustingly dirty anyways, and it didn't look like he'd have a chance for a bath anytime soon.

He crouched next to the pool and cupped some water in his hands, scrubbing it over his face to wash off the sweat and grime he swore he could feel layering up, making his face itch. The water was icy cold, but he felt too gross to care. It felt almost like he had something growing on his face. And Malfoys never let things grow on their faces. It was very unsanitary.

He was just about to get another handful of water to wash with when he caught sight of his reflection.

He blinked. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. And then let out a wail.

"AUGH! I'M A SHORT BEARDED BARBARIAN!"

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It felt vaguely like one of those strange dreams where you wake up feeling as though you are spinning, Ron reflected. Except that this spinning wouldn't stop. His head felt dizzy, like he had gone towards the ground too fast on his broom. Ron opened his eyes and found himself moving, bouncing up and down almost painfully, definitely uncomfortably. His head conitnued to spin and before he realized what happened, he felt himself fall.

Ron's left knee connected with the ground, then his hands, and the force of his fall made him roll over on the ground before landing face down. Still dizzy, he forced himself to his hands and knees again, just in time for his stomach to finally protest all the motion.

By the time he finished vomiting all over the ground, Ron had recovered a sense of balance enough for him to look up and see what the hell was going on.

He was kneeling in some long grass on a hill. When he sat up, breathing hard, he could see more grassy hills spreading out in all directions for miles, with no change. A few feet away from him was a long staff, a sturdy wooden branch with a cluster of twisted twigs at the top. Next to it, laying on it's side, was a large, pointed grey-blue Wizards' hat.

Hearing a sound behind him, he turned around, slowly so as to keep himself from becoming nauseous again. There stood the most magnificent beautiful white stallion he had ever seen, watching him with intelligent dark eyes.

Ron had a cousin who kept horses, so he had grown up riding and helping take care of them every summer when the family went to visit. Said cousin kept many different breeds, choosing whichever horses caught his fancy. So Ron was familiar with many different breeds. However he didn't recognize what breed this one was.

The beautiful horse came over to where Ron was sitting and sniffed him before whickering softly. The Gryffindor hesitated before putting a hand on the velvet nose, petting the stallion. The horse nudged him, and slowly Ron stood, putting a hand on the animal's side to steady himself. His muscles and joints ached something horrible, and he wondered if it was a side affect of the botched spell.

Remembering the staff he had noticed before, he turned. Still looking around at the surrounding landscape, Ron reached down to pick up the staff, stiffening and biting back a cry at the sudden pain in his back. The horse gave a whinney, sounding distressed, and Ron had to use the staff in order to stand back up, leaning heavliy on it. _'Oww.'_

Wincing, he looked around, trying to see where everyone disappeared to. "Harry? Hermione? Where are you guys? Oh Merlin, I am so bloody lost."

He couldn't see anything but rolling rocky hills as far as he could see.

Sighing, he looked down.

And jumped when he saw long, grey, travel-stained robes, along with a sword hanging from his belt.

Not to mention a beard to rival Professor Dumbledore's.

"What the bloody hell…? Oh, I am going to kill the twins when I find them."

Ron glanced around at the surrounding hills helplessly and sighed again. He turned to the stallion, putting up a hand to pet the creature's beautiful mane. "Do you know where we are, mate?"

The horse just blinked and tossed his head.

"I going to assume you don't care. In any case…"

Ron expertly put his hand on the horses back and lifted himself up to ride bareback. The stallion turned it's head to watch, but didn't move, as though used to this.

Once he was comfortably seated on the magnificent horse, Ron reached down to pet the animals neck. He knew that horses could find their way home with ease, so he was going to have to trust the horse on this.

"Okay mate, take me…somewhere…"

Ron was quite shocked when the horse took off like a shot the moment the words left his mouth.

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When Hermione opened her eyes she could see nothing but tree branches, with a few patches of sky between the waving limbs. The motion above did not help her, and so she closed her eyes again, turning onto her side with a groan. When her head had stopped pounding and her vision was no longer warped, she slowly sat up and looked around her.

To her complete shock, she found herself sitting in the middle of a mud puddle, in the middle of some strange trees, in the middle of a forest, that she did not recognize at all.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, this is not good."

Frantically, she looked around for some sign of any of her friends being nearby, or at least _someone_. "Harry? Ron? Professors? Oh, no I'm in so much trouble!" she moaned, bringing a hand up to wipe her face.

She froze when she felt the stubble of a few days old beard on her face.

"What the…?" She looked down and jumped. "WHERE'D MY BOOBS GO?!"

Patting her now-flat chest, she (or was it he?) Hermione noted that her clothes, too, were different. Instead of the comfortable jeans and t-shirt she liked wearing during the summer holidays, she had on a tunic and trousers, stained from travel. Over these she also was wearing a just-as-stained dark green heavy cloak, and a pair of high top dark leather boots.

And then she noticed the sword.

For a moment she just stared, then hesitantly she reached out and touched it, as though trying to see if she was only imagining it. Then she slowly gripped the hilt and drew the blade.

The sword was broken about a foot down from the handle.

Replacing the shattered blade inside its scabbard, Hermione rose unsteadily to her feet, using the tree next to her to help maintain her balance.

'_Alright, Hermione,'_ she thought to herself, _'Think! I'm in the middle of a forest, with no memory of how I came to be here. My clothes have been replaced with these weird ones, I have a broken sword, and…apparently I'm now a boy…?'_

A thought occurred to her, and after a moment, Hermione hesitantly pulled away the waistband of her trousers from her body, peeking down at her nether regions. Quickly she looked away, her cheeks suddenly rather pink.

'Definitely a boy then. Something must have happened when Neville interrupted the spell. Remus said it was a locating spell; maybe it mixed everything up and transported us all to different areas. Still, that doesn't explain my…sex change.' 

Just then, Hermione heard something, voices from somewhere off to her left, through a thicket of young trees. Figuring there was nothing better she could do to help her situation, she decided to investigate.

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The last time he had felt this disoriented, Neville reflected, was when his uncle had dropped him out of a second story window and he had bounced all the way down to the road.

Dizzily, he realized that a voice was speaking in a hurried tone; whether to him or someone else, he could not tell.

"Half a moment, I must go after Tom, before he disappears again. I have something that I wish to ask him."

"Okay," Neville murmured, not really knowing who it was he spoke to, or even if there was truly someone there. He heard light hoofbeats, like that of a pony, or some such, and blinked his eyes open.

He found himself seated on the back of a fat pony on a dirt road in the countryside. Three more ponies were just nearby, one of them tied to the saddle of the one he was riding, laden with packs. The other two bore a couple of passengers who looked just as out of it and confused as he felt.

Neville stared at them. He'd never seen people like these before. First off, they were very short; even with them seated on their ponies he could tell they were not much larger than some of his younger cousins. Despite their small stature, however, and judging from their faces, they appeared to be older than him, in their late twenties, maybe early thirties. Both had curly brown hair that came down to frame their faces, and both were mildly plump. They also had just about the biggest, hairiest feet, he thought he'd ever seen. That was another thing, _why_ were they _barefoot_?

When Neville didn't recognize anyone there, he started to grow a bit nervous. For the longest moment, he and the two strange little people did nothing but stare at one another, each waiting for one of the others to make the first move. The three were caught up in the awkward silence for several minutes before Neville just barely caught one of the other two muttering under his breath, "I am going to kill Longbottom for this…"

Neville gasped slightly, feeling his mouth drop open in shock. This person knew him! He and the other stranger stared at the little person seething in front of them. Then finally Neville got his voice to work and spoke up, his voice quivering. "Why? What did I do to you? I don't even know you!"

"I'm not talking about you, _fool_," the first little person said, sneering and crossing his arms. Neville flinched back as if he'd been struck. The little person was as mean as some of his Slytherin classmates. The little guy took no notice, continuing his rant. "I'm talking about that idiotic, imbecilic, bloody fool of a Gryffindor who messed up _again_ and landed me in this hell-hole! I will have Neville Longbottom in detention from now until spring break for this!"

Neville blinked and stared. "Er, I am Neville Longbottom."

You could have heard a pin drop at this statement.

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Remus had chosen not say anything since appearing on the pony in this strange, strange world. Instead, he watched the two people with him carefully, who were currently staring at one another wide-eyed, looking rather stupid.

"Ummm…what just happened, and who are you people?" the one who claimed to be Neville asked.

Remus and the other stranger, who sounded curiously like Severus to his ears, both stared at "Neville" for a moment, then stared at each other, apparently as dumbstruck as he was.

Finally, the one who had threatened Neville cleared his throat and spoke. "I would like to know the exact same thing, myself."

"That makes three of us," said Remus reluctantly, after hesitating a moment.

"You claim to be Neville Longbottom," said the grumpy person, "Can you prove that?"

The one claiming to be Neville looked confused for a moment, then looked down at himself and jumped. "What…what is this?" he cried fearfully. "What happened to my robes? …And what happened to my _feet_?"

He lifted one foot up so he could see it close up. It was tremendously large in proportion to the rest of his body, and covered with thick, curling, dark hair. Subconsciously, Remus glanced down at his own foot…and did a double-take.

"What the bloody hell…?" he muttered. His foot was not dissimilar to that of the little person who said he was Neville. Broad and flat, with thick leathery soles and a thick coat of curling hair on the top. Then Remus took note of his sudden change in dress; worn and patched wizards' robes for breeches and a loose shirt, covered over with a vest and cloak.

Remus turned his attention back to his two companions, and froze when he noticed they both had their eyes locked on him, one set narrowed and glaring, the other wide and teary.

"Who are you, then?" growled the glaring one.

Remus blinked, wondered just how it was possible for a short, chubby little person with big hairy feet and a cherubic face framed by golden brown curls to look quite so intimidating and menacing. "Remus Lupin," he hazarded.

"Lupin?"

"Professor?"

The other two spoke at almost the same time, staring at him with incredulity. Their glanced at one another, then resumed staring at him in silence, until finally the nicer of the two spoke again. "It's really you?"

"Yes," Remus said. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"You don't look like Remus Lupin to me," sneered the other strange creature.

"Yes," Remus said dryly, "So I've noticed. Just like he – " he gestured to the nicer one, " – doesn't look much like Neville. Coincedence? Maybe…but somehow I rather doubt that. So that just leaves…you." He leveled a stare at the mean one, who blinked. "I don't recognize you. Who are you, then?"

He said nothing in response, just stared back at Remus, then cast a quick glance over at 'Neville' before sighing. "I'm Severus Snape," he muttered.

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It irked Severus that the bloody fools had the audacity to look unsurprised – no, they were amused at this predicament! So he didn't appear to be his normal self. Niether did they, if their claims to be Lupin and Longbottom were to be taken seriously.

"So what happened?" Neville said tearfully.

Severus snorted. "_You_ did. As usual. I suppose it's too much to ask that you and Potter and the rest of your little group do not cause any trouble over the summer hoilday."

"Severus," Remus said reprimandingly, somehow still managing to look like a disapproving parent despite their current circumstances.

"But what_ happened_?" Neville said again, this time emphasizing the last word.

Severus sighed irritably, but was saved from having to come up with another retort by Remus answering for him. "It appears that the spell we were working on had some, hm, adverse effects when you fell into the circle, Neville."

"You think?" Severus practically yelled sarcastically.

Remus ignored him, frowning and passing a hand over his face. "What I don't get is why it had _this_ effect. It was a locating spell, so I've no idea how it managed to change all our appearances…not to mention our clothing."

"Umm…professors, wouldn't the more pressing matter be figuring out where we are?"

"That would probably help," Severus reluctantly conceded. Neville was so shocked he nearly fell off his pony. Remus just gave an amused smile. Ignoring the younger Gryffindor, Severus continued. "Most likely figuring out one will help solve the case of the other. We may even find the others, whom I have no doubt are in similar circumstances."

"What do you propose, then, Severus?" Remus asked. "We're on a road; should we follow it and hope to find the others? Or perhaps we should remain here and hope they come to us?"

Severus did not find either of those choices appealing. Howeverm he was once again saved from responding, this time by the sound of someone approaching on horseback. Or ponyback, as the case may be.

The three tensed and were ready to bolt when a fourth one of the small, furry-footed people they had all somehow been transformed into caming riding up the road, giving them all a wan smile. He slowed his pony to a stop once hey reached them, his expression slipping into confused discomfort as they all contiued to stare at him.

"Hullo, lads," he said in a high clear voice. Shall we continue then? Bree isn't very far now."

The three glanced nervously at one another, not knowing quite how to respond. This person knew them? Had he been sent to fetch them or some such?

After a long moment, during which the newest arrival began to look more and more confused, Severus finally wet his lips to speak. "Alright then, let's go."

Remus gave him a sharp look, but both Neville and the new arrival looked relieved that the tense atmosphere was being broken slightly.

Without saying anything more, the new person turn his pony and started back down the road. Neville went next, but Remus and Severus hung back a moment, moving their ponies closer together so they could speak without being heard.

"Are you sure this is wise, Severus? Following somebody we don't even know who hasn't even given us his name yet?"

"You think I don't know that, Wolf?" he sneered, "We have no idea where we are or what happened, but I've a hunch that this person may be able to give us some answers. We just have to be careful. Keep an eye on Longbottom, will you? Make sure that neither he, or you, make any mention of what happened until we've figured something out, alright?"

Remus nodded, and chirruped to his pony, urging it up closer to where Neville was riding carefully, so as not to fall off.

Severus sighed and pushed a hand back through his hair. He grimaced when his hand met incorrigible brown curls, rather than his own silky black locks, coated with a special protective potion to keep potion ingredients and fumes from messing it up.

This was going to be a bad day, he just knew it.

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Frodo rode up ahead of the other Hobbits, trying to put his unease aside. Something strange was going on here; normally Merry and Pippin would be unable to shut up, likely bickering loudly about whether or not the pubs in Bree would be better or worse than the Green Dragon back home. Instead, they were hovering at the back of their little entourage, whispering amongst themselves. And Sam seemed troubled as well, staring at his ponies main with an expression of utmost concentration on his face, clutching the reins tightly in white-knuckled fists.

Determined to break the uneasy tension, he spoke up again. "By the way, lads, when we get there, remember that we are not at home anymore. Use caution, and please remember – if you must use my name, call me by Mr. Underhill, and NOT Baggins."

They three blinked and looked up at him, all three murmuring their agreement, then presuming their staring and/or mutterings.

Still bemused by his companions behavior, Frodo turned back around on his pony to face the road ahead.

Something very strange was going on here…

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End Chapter 2

Hee! That was fun! Sorry about the last little bit. I had to rush Sev's and Frodo's parts, in order to get it out on time. I was determined to get these posted on Thursday like I promised, and my dad is equally determined to kick me off the laptop and send me to bed.

Please review!

Hermione's To-do list for chapter three:

-Find some of the others

-Accidentally make poor Frodo even more confused

-Gain some semblance of an idea of wtf is going on

-Create typical know-it-all plan


End file.
